


In the Eye of the Forest

by deadendtracks (amonitrate)



Series: the possibility was a blade [2]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Season/Series 05, Season/Series 05, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-05 15:47:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20491301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amonitrate/pseuds/deadendtracks
Summary: The whisper pierced the dark, pulling Lizzie blinking into the bedroom gone silent again, leaving her lingering between certainty the word had been a dream-echo and the fog of sleep left abruptly behind.Not really any spoilers for the new season, unless the state of Tommy's head is a spoiler.





	In the Eye of the Forest

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Peaky Blinders Emergency Response Challenge, episode 2.

“Quiet.”

The whisper pierced the dark, pulling Lizzie blinking into the bedroom gone silent again, leaving her lingering between certainty the word had been a dream-echo and the fog of sleep left abruptly behind.

The next word came nearly soundless. “Fuck.” 

She turned her head on the pillow, because she recognized the tone of the curse and because it came so close she could feel the air move with it. 

“Tommy?”

There was a shift in the dark next to her, then an impatient hiss, definitely Tommy. “For fuck’s sake.  _ Listen _ .”

Lizzie stilled under the sheets, but could hear nothing but silence, the perfect silence of the hours before dawn, before the kitchen staff or maids stirred.

“Tommy,” she said finally, nearly as soundless as he’d been, “What--”

He shifted then, and she could just make out the lines of him, her eyes finally adjusted to the blackness. He’d pushed himself half upright on one elbow and she could see a faint moonlit sliver of his cheekbone, a glint that might be his eyes.

“Fuck,” he said again, and when her hand found the bare skin of his shoulder he raised his arm, palm up as if to stop her. His tension bled into her, all her instincts immediately sharp as a blade. Was there someone in the house? “Don’t,” he murmured, “Just wait.”

But he stayed where he was, head tilted. As the minutes went by the house settled in soft creaks, nothing out of the ordinary at all, and Lizzie pulled herself up against the headboard, hugging her knees. 

“Alright,” he said. The breath rushed out of him and something in him finally relaxed, but still he just sat there, the sheets pooled around his waist, barely seeming to blink.

“What did you hear?” She reached out again, her hand on his forearm, and this time he tensed under the touch. 

“Lizzie?” The tone was all off and she wasn’t sure why. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re the one who--” Lizzie shook her head, and reached over to switch on the lamp on the bedside table. Tommy squinted, blinking at her in the soft light, eyes hollowed out like gourds.

“What?” he frowned. “Is it the baby?”

“Tommy--” But he was already slipping out of the bed, pulling on a pair of discarded shorts, making a beeline for the nursery. She found the robe she’d left on a chair nearby and followed.

Ruby was of course sound asleep in her bed, like they ought to have been. Tommy stood motionless in the doorway, scanning the dark room, and then brushed past her across the hall to Charlie’s room. 

He did this, sometimes, but it had been awhile. Checking on the children, checking the windows and the doors. All of them, in this big house, thorough enough that it could take him an hour. It had been at its worst when Ruby was just walking; there’d been times he wouldn’t let her out of his sight when he was home, or if they were out together, whether in the yard or the city. But it’d tapered off after her second birthday. 

“Dad?” Charlie stirred under his blankets, blinking sleepily. “Are we going somewhere?”

Tommy didn’t answer for a moment, then shook his head. “Just back to sleep, yeah?”

Lizzie watched as he checked the rest of the empty bedrooms on the floor and then headed for the stairs. At least he hadn’t grabbed a gun this time.  
  


She asked him about it over breakfast the next morning. Or, well, she was eating breakfast and he was sipping a cup of tea and pouring over the London Times, his new tortoise shell frames dark against his skin. He’d needed a stronger prescription and groused about it for weeks before giving in, but she thought the pair suited him.

“Hmm?”

“Last night,” she repeated. “You woke me up. Seemed to hear something in the house.”

He lifted his attention from the headlines, frowning. He was never the easiest man to read, even after years of daily exposure and now sleeping next to him in a bed like a proper wife, but she thought he might be genuinely lost. 

“You kept telling me to listen. Got up and checked the kids,” she continued. “Did your patrol around the house.”

“My patrol?” Like he didn’t know about it. Like he didn’t fucking know. It had been awhile since last it happened, but not that long.

“Yeah,” she said, unnerved by the confusion on his face and the fact that he was actually showing it. “You know, checking the doors, looking for… intruders, I suppose.”

His eyes narrowed a little, like he thought maybe she was having him on. But just then Frances arrived with Charlie and Ruby in tow, Charlie already chattering about school, and his new teachers, and his violin. Tommy stood up, folded the newspaper, and gave them both kisses on the forehead. Said he had a train to catch, said he hoped to be back for dinner, and then was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Horses" by Patti Smith.
> 
> I might write more related to this but for now this is a one-shot.


End file.
